Chapter 142 The Kids’ Furniture Can Go to the Two Little Darlings
After the door slammed, Brady Hall inside the car wasn’t the least bit angry. Instead, his dark eyes narrowed dangerously as he watched Violet sprint into the apartment building.
Harassment.
Interesting.
He was, after all, the CEO of the Hall family business, wasn't he?
"Drive, back to the apartment," Brady commanded after a moment, his eyes following Violet until she disappeared through the apartment doors. He pressed on the sealed divider in front of him and issued the command to the driver in a calm tone.
The driver nodded, "Right away, Mr. Hall."
The black Bentley rolled slowly toward the road outside the apartment complex. The driver had been driving for a bit when suddenly something occurred to him. Turning to Brady Hall, he mentioned, “Mr. Hall, the European-style luxury children’s furniture you ordered has arrived. My assistant mentioned it can be set up tomorrow.”
“Set it up?” The driver cast a quick glance at the man lounging in the plush seat through the rearview mirror, his voice barely above a whisper.
Brady Hall lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, and with a slow, straightforward tone confirmed, “Yeah.”
“Alright, I'll speak to Linda tomorrow.”
“Not in my apartment,” Brady Hall said, his eyes briefly taking in the streetscape outside.
“Then where, Mr. Hall?” The driver was puzzled.
“Have it set up at Ashbourne Manor.” The estate had more space, enough to accommodate two children at play, he thought.
Thinking of those two kids, Brady instinctively believed they had to be his. Undoubtedly. And even if subsequent investigations proved otherwise, he could always gift the delightful furniture to those two little charmers. It was a matter of serendipity.
“Sure thing, Mr. Hall.” The driver nodded, pressing down on the accelerator to speed up towards Brady's apartment.
Meanwhile, back at the equally aged apartment building, Violet Devereux had waited a full ten minutes after Brady Hall had left before daring to step out. She briskly made her way outside, glancing left and right, confirming they had indeed left.
Violet let out a sigh of relief, allowing herself to relax as she hurried over to Hellen's place. She felt a bit engorged; it was almost time to feed the babies.
In less than a ten-minute sprint, Violet was home. As soon as she walked in the door, her two adorable tykes rushed for a cuddle. Henry, especially, was the most eager. Recently, he’d started speaking, his vocabulary building impressively, capable of many basic interactions.
Seeing Violet, he immediately broke into a grin, his soft voice reaching out as he cuddled into her arms, “Momma, you’re back...”
At the sound of Henry's words, Violet's face lit up with an indulgent smile as she gently ruffled her son's fluffy hair, “Henry, you’re such a good boy.”
Her heart warmed at the thought of her babies. They’d surely grow up to be affectionate men, not domineering like Brady Hall.
The thought of Brady jolted Violet's mind. Why was she even thinking about that man? She couldn't afford to, no matter how much he insisted on being involved. She had always resisted, and she would continue to do so.
Guys like them might hound you once or twice, but they don't have all the time in the world to keep at it day after day. Besides, there are plenty of fish in the sea—he'll lose patience if she keeps saying no.
She really shouldn't worry too much.
He'll tire of the chase and give up eventually.
All she has to do now is stick to her guns.
Little sister Nicole was at a loss for words, clueless about the meaning behind her brother's "tough break." She always wanted to mimic whatever he said, but words just failed her.
All she could do was call out with a muffled, sweet voice, "Momma—eh-eh-eh—"
After her attempt, Nicole felt a sense of injustice—why couldn't she talk like her brother?
All she could muster were infantile coos.
Was she simply too slow?
The more Nicole thought about it, the more upset she became, her crystal-clear eyes misting over. She tugged on Violet Devereux's hem, her voice quivering as she began to cry, "Momma—Momma—"
"Nicole, what's the matter?" Violet Devereux had been basking in the joy of her little charmer, Henry. But turning to see her pitifully adorable Nicole, Violet immediately scooped her into her arms. Gently touching her darling's fuzzy short hair, she asked.
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